Like Father, Like Son
by Santiaga
Summary: He loves his son so much; but lately it seemed that all they did was fight. Everything changes when Clark is held hostage and his life is threatened. (Non-native autor)
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** He loves his son so much; but lately it seemed that all they did was fight. Everything changes when Clark is held hostage and his life is threatened.

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine, not now, not ever.

 **Beta:** Many thanks to Ace Bullets for her help! All mistakes are mine!

 **Season:** 3rd? In any case, Clark is still the only child in the Lane's family.

 **Genre:** Family, Drama, Angst, H/C

 **Warning: English is not my native language!** Sorry in advance for the mistakes and for my limited vocabulary. If possible, be kind and don't judge me harshly. I'm trying really hard. Many thanks for your patience, your feedback, and your support.

 **A/N:** Feedback is not a necessity in life but it sure is appreciated :)

Like Father, Like Son.

CHAPTER 1

They hadn't said one word since they left the principal's office, and now, with each agonizing minute passing by, the tension in the car steadily intensified.

The father, with a stony expression, silently drove the car. He seemed almost calm but a tough fold was etched between his eyebrows, his firmly-set mouth, his hands clenched around the steering wheel, and the superfluous coarseness of his movements when he shifted gears betrayed his inner tension. From time to time he was throwing furious glances in the rearview mirror, looking at the boy in the back seat.

The son was sitting with his hands folded tightly across his chest. Glumly, he looked out the side window. His mouth was also set into the hard line; but his lower lip was noticeably swollen and there was a bruise, growing on his chin.

The father spoke first, unable to restrain himself any longer.

"I'm still waiting explanations, Clark."

The teenager rolled his eyes before answering. "Oh! By the way: Hi, Dad! Yes, I'm fine; thanks for asking!" Clark Lane almost cried out, then went back to looking out the window, obviously trying to look anywhere but at his father. Scowling, he ran his tongue gently on a cut on the inner side of his swollen lip.

Ed's gaze in the mirror caught this movement and a muscle in his jaw twitched. "Of all the stupid things, Clark... For God's sake, you are FIFTEEN! What the hell were you thinking?!" he seethed through clenched teeth, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. Getting no reply he snorted. "Oh wait, that's right. You weren't. You never think of the damn consequences, do you?" He threw a fierce look at his son.

Clark stubbornly stared out the truck window, not answering, but his shoulders hunched a little.

"Are you going to answer me?" Ed prodded.

Clark heaved an exasperated sigh. "Why? It's useless. You wouldn't understand, anyway…"

"Try me!" Ed slammed his hand on the steering wheel.

"No." The teenager moved his gaze to look in the rearview mirror. He endured the hard-eyed stare of his father without flinching.

"That was not an answer, Clark!" Ed barked over his shoulder and couldn't keep his voice from rising. His legendary temper hung by a thread again. Any goodwill had gone a long time ago.

"It's the only one you're getting!" Clark declared, staring defiantly at his father. "And keep your eyes on the road, will you? I've had enough problems today."

Ed bit his lips, mentally counting to ten before responding. But no matter how hard he tried to control himself - when he spoke, his voice vibrated with barely suppressed anger. "Now, let me get this straight, smartass," he snarled. "I was in the middle of an important meeting when your principal called me. I had to explain to dozen of sergeants and team leaders that I couldn't finish the meeting because my fifteen-year-old son got into a stupid fight at school!" He tried to stop yelling, but his voice rose automatically as he kept going. "Afterwards, I was forced to listen to an extremely unpleasant lecture from your principal and the school counselor! You displayed undue violence and that'll probably raise a red flag for the school board, your principal said. Sure you don't give a damn about it. Fine! If you spit at your future and at your parents, it's your business. If you don't care about your music—which you could end forever breaking your fingers—again, it's your business. But—"

Clark interrupted him with a loud, exasperated groan. "I said to you that I'm sorry! I'm such a screw up, okay? I'M. SOR-RY. I'm sorry I'm not good enough for you. I'm sorry I'm not the perfect little son. I'm sorry that I ruined your perfect little family plans and—"

"Oh, put away the violins, would ya?" Ed cut him short and made a face; he was at the end of his rope. "This isn't a movie about your own sob story, Clark. Save the dramatics and just accept responsibility for once in your damn life!"

Ed pulled into their driveway. The truck stopped, but he and Clark remained sitting. Ed shut off the engine and turned round on his seat to face his son. "For the last time. Tell me what the hell prompted you to attack some kid. Or prepare be locked in your room until you are 18. The choice is entirely up to you!" He demanded sternly.

The boy looked dejectedly at the front door of the house, then he glanced down at his hands, his fingers absently fiddling with the handle of his school backpack.

"It's not what you think," Clark finally said. He raised his head and looked straight in his father's face. "You accuse me without knowing everything…again…"

"Oh, really?!" Ed exclaimed and threw up his hands. "All right! Maybe I've been unfair. Maybe I've leapt to conclusions without getting the whole story. So do me a favor: enlighten me!" He fixed his piercing blue eyes on his son.

For a few moments there was a tense silence in the car.

"Fine!" Clark blurted out. Folding his arms and jutting out his chin, he finally spoke up, somewhat desperately. "He said... He said that it's regular beat cops that do the real work. That they're the ones who really clean the streets up of the bad guys. That the SRU are only capable of useless, empty chatter. He said it's not fair that the people extol and approve you; that you're NOT heroes. That the SRU only recruits people who don't have the balls to work everyday on the streets unless they're wearing armored helmets and heavy bulletproof vests with highest level of protection... Who are too stupid to make tough decisions on their own and can only blindly follow the rules and protocols. Who could never become REAL COPS!" he cried out loud and paused, breathing heavily.

Ed opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again when he realized he hadn't known what he was going to say. _Crap…_

The boy's eyes glistened with close tears now. "He said that the sniper position is the most cowardly work... That you ... That they ... they are killing people from afar because they are too cowardly to look the enemy in the eyes. He said you a coward, Dad! Tell me! Tell me what I was supposed to do?!"

Ed turned away, biting his lips, unable to think of a quick answer. All his anger at Clark drained away. Now he was baffled, dumbfounded and taken aback. Not exactly the emotions he was used to. He glanced in the rearview mirror again. Clark was looking at him; his eyes were desperate for his father's response.

 _Double crap_. What could he say? That Clark did the right thing by breaking the nose of this idiot? That Ed would have done exactly that in Clark's place? Well, was the honest answer, but unfortunately not the answer that the father-cop should give to his troubled rebellious teenager-son.

Ed closed his eyes for a moment, struggling to push his emotions aside.

Right now, he had to find the right words for his son to prevent a possible recurrence of a similar situation in the future. Clark never must jeopardize his own life and health because of the words of every idiot.

 _But later, when this was over, he would go down in the basement and murder a punching bag._

"Clark... No matter what someone else does or says, there are always other choices," Ed began to speak quietly in his best persuasive voice. "Fighting is not an option, and you know it. Did you even try to talk to him before hitting him?"

Clark's hackles were immediately up again. "Talk? You said TALK?!" he almost spat out the words.

Ed ignored Clark's sarcasm. "You should not have to beat him. Aggression never solved anything. Believe me," he continued as soothingly as he could.

Clark's face contorted with a grimace of contempt. "Are you really saying that I have to talk with every bastard?"

Ed shook his head. "Buddy… You allowed your emotions to take over. You were overreacting. You let this become personal and-"

"It WAS personal!" Clark exclaimed, fixing his angry glance upon his father's face. Ed knew that stubborn look on his son's face. Sophie claimed Clark got it from him…

He breathed out a deep sigh. "Do you know why there is a rule that if the case becomes personal for a cop he should be removed? He is no longer objective and begins to jeopardize himself and others, and-"

"I do not want to hear it! I do not want to know about your stupid rules!" Clark shook his head furiously. "I'm NOT a cop! And I never will be. I don't want to be like you; I'm not you! If some bastard insulted my family, I'm gonna respond, no matter the price or some stupid rules!"

Ed felt like beating his head against the steering wheel. How was it that he could talk down a career criminals, gunmen, potential suicides... but was not even be able to talk to his own son? "Clark, listen to me, buddy…"

"No! I'll listen to you when you stop talking like a negotiator or 'Constable Lane' and start talking to me like a father!" Clark was almost yelling now.

Ed clenched his teeth, making a supreme effort to make himself not snap back.

Clark sat bolt upright. "Yes, I knew that it was against all the rules!" he blurted out. "I knew that I would be punished for the fact that I've broken the nose of that moron. And you know what?! I didn't give a damn because I KNEW in my soul, in my heart that I did the RIGHT thing! Because if I hadn't done it… I couldn't respect myself. I would have despised myself!" His eyes shone with tears, and his mouth trembled.

"Kiddo…" Ed began softly.

"I knew that I would have problems!" Clark cried out. "And I didn't care. I made the decision and do was ready to accept the consequences! I just was hoping that my dad would support me. At least once..." He sniffled, no longer able to hold back the tears.

"Clark, Clark…" Ed reached out to his son but the boy angrily pushed his hand away.

"I was protecting you... I thought that's what family does... I was wrong! I… I hate you!" With that, Clark yanked the door open and jumped out the car. Ed watched silently as the boy ran into the house and the door slammed behind him.

He wearily rubbed his hand across his eyes. He felt wrung out, inadequate, and in way over his head. In addition, his temples begin to pound with the promise of a headache.

He leaned back and stared out the windshield, watching the slowly darkening sky, trying to wrap his head around what had happened and was dumbfounded at how quickly his good day had gone down the tubes…

He should be happy; it was the last day of work from the seemingly endless ten days' duty tour before he went on break. From the early morning today he craved getting through this shift, getting home and finally getting his deserved quiet, lazy family Friday night. And tomorrow there would be his long-awaited day off with his son, away from the noisy city; away from all this hectic madness and rush.

Fishing. He had been waiting for this for a long time… Only him and Clark; the father and the son, together; happy as before.

It was their old tradition. In those rare times when Ed's days off coincided with Clark's free days, they went on a fishing trip. Sophie sometimes joined them, but in most cases, she stayed at home, allowing father and son spend time together. These days were very precious to Ed, especially now, with Clark almost grown up, joining his father without the previous enthusiasm. With soft sadness, Ed began to come to an understanding that there weren't many more of their joint fishing trips remaining.

He missed spending time with his son and had been really awaiting his coming days off…

When Principal McCarthy called him and said that Clark had beat up his class-mate, Ed did not believe him.

It could be some kind of joke; an episode of a candid camera show; an alternate universe; anything but the school fight with his son in the role of the attacker.

Being pulled from a meeting that—if he was honest, he'd been relieved to get away from it—and driving across city, worried sick that Clark had been hurt, he hadn't been in the most reasonable mood when he arrived at the school.

After making sure that was Clark unharmed and after hearing a scolding from the principal and the school counselor, Ed loosed the whole force of his character on his son, masking his worry and disappointment with anger.

All this time, Clark was stubbornly silent, not giving any explanations. Silently, they got into the car. Silently, they were almost all the way home.

 _And here, explanations had been received…_ Ed chuckled bitterly, winced and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He noticed that the door of the house opened and Sophie came out, looking at the truck. Ed rubbed his eyes. They were tired and there were so many thoughts swimming in his mind. With a large exhale of breath, he pushed the door of the truck open, stepped out and headed to the house, wishing he knew what he'd done wrong in bringing up Clark.

How many fights had Ed himself gotten into as a kid or a teenager? Oh, definitely more than one. Did his father yell at him for it? Definitely, yes. But did Ed ever say to his father he hated him? Definitely not…

* * *

He came up to the front door. Sophie took a step towards him and hugged him. "You okay?" she whispered and kissed him softly on his cheek.

"Yeah…" Ed managed a tired smile, hugging her back. "Did he tell you?"

Sophie nodded, "He called me from the school."

They went inside.

"He's upstairs?"

Sophie sighed. "Give him time to cool down a bit…"

Ed nodded silently and continued his way through the house toward the bedroom. As he passed through the living room his eyes fell on a few family pictures on the wall. He stopped, looking pensively and sullenly at one photo, where he and a ten-year-old Clark were standing embracing each other, smiling broadly. He gave another tired sigh, looking with a quiet pain and sadness at Clark's beaming face.

He really didn't know what happened. One day they both were happy; his son loved him, admired him and was proud of him and his job. The next day they were fighting…

A hand touched his shoulder. He barely noticed as Sophie quietly approached him from behind. She put her arms around his waist and he took her hands in his. For a few moments they stood in silence, looking at the family photos on the wall.

"I'm not exactly Father of the Year today, Soph…" Ed muttered bitterly.

"It'll all look better in the morning, Eddie…" his wife replied softly.

Ed shook his head. "He said he hates me, Soph. I tried to tell him all the right things; tried to get through to him, explain to him... I just wanted him to be safe. And he hates me." He paused, sighing heavily. "Soph, I'm losing him and I have no idea why. What did I do wrong?"

"You did everything right," Sophie countered gently.

Ed still kept his pain-filled eyes on the pictures on the wall. "I swear I always did my best to be a good father to him… And here we go. My son is headed to the top of the list of school bullies. He hates me. Looks like I screwed up everywhere. And I have no damn idea how it's come to this…"

Sophie chuckled. "Maybe you're so afraid of screwing up, that you're screwing up," she rested her cheek on Ed's shoulder.

"Hey!" Ed turned his head and gave her a hurt look. His wife's eyes danced with merriment and Ed frowned. "I don't see anything very amusing in that," he grumbled. "Our son, the cellist, broke the nose of his classmate; that's sure not a funny thing!" He paused then shook his head. "Gee, I can still hardly believe it," he breathed out a harsh laugh.

"There's a first for everything," Sophie replied with a shrug. "And the fact that he is the cellist does not cancel the fact that he is a teenager as well. And your son," she smiled at her husband. "He did what his father would have done. He's starting to act like you, Eddie, more and more. There so much of you in him."

Ed wrinkled his nose and looked sideways at her. "I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not..."

"Why? You wanted him to be shy and timid?" His wife smiled at him, her eyebrows raised in surprise. Then she grew serious. "At his age you would have done just the same. I know part of you is actually proud of him and approves his actions… He was protecting you, Eddie."

"He shouldn't," Ed said firmly and with a frown. "No matter what—or who said and did what—he shouldn't have to expose himself to danger. It is unacceptable!" He broke off, noticing that he began to slide into 'Constable Lane' mode. He cursed under his breath, winced and shook his head furiously. "Hell, Soph... No matter what I think or feel about all this, I can't approve of what he did!" He paused a few seconds, frowning; then went on with a sigh. "Yeah... I have to be on his side. And I'm NOT ... And that is why he hates me."

Sophie said nothing; just hugged her husband tightly, pressing closer to him.

Ed looked over the gallery again. His eyes stopped on a picture Sophie had taken that caught a moment Ed had tried to feed his three-year-old son. There were such identical expressions on father and son's faces; two pairs of stubborn glances and frowning brows; two pairs of tightly compressed lips.

"Soph, you know, sometimes I wish I could turn the clock back to another time, when the most difficult thing was trying to get Clark to eat his vegetables..." he sighed deeply.

Sophie laughed softly at that. "Sure you don't." She turned to face Ed. "You two are gonna make it up, okay? You'll have all day tomorrow, just the two of you, yours rods and fish. A little hiking and fishing. A little bonding. A lot of talking…" She looked at him intently. "You're both gonna be fine."

A sudden roar thudded from above and Ed's head shot up. Stunned, he listened to the sounds of heavy, low bass coming from his son's room. He turned his dumbfounded gaze on his wife.

"What's the hell is this?!"

"Music," she said, completely calm. "Yes, honey, your son doesn't like only classical sonatas," she grinned at him.

"Terrific…" Ed made a face. The 'music' fell abruptly silent; apparently Clark switched to his earphones.

"You can talk to him about it tomorrow. He will be glad to hear that you're interested," Sophie said.

Ed looked away. Suddenly he didn't want to be alone with the stranger that had once been his son. "About tomorrow… I'm not sure that's a good idea. Maybe better to postpone it till next time..."

"I never knew you to give up, Edward Tucker Lane," Sophie replied with a smirk and shook her head.

Ed looked at her, almost desperately. "He is not going to talk with me. He doesn't want to. He won't want to even listen to anything I say." He paused and had to swallow the golf ball-sized lump in his throat.

"It'll all look better in the morning…" Sophie repeated softly. She turned to him and cradled his face in her hands. "Talk to him. Just… Just try to be a father first…and then, if you think it necessary, 'Constable Lane' can take over and say what he needs—but without badgering him." She kissed him on tightly compressed lips. "Come on. Stop torturing yourself. Everything's going to be okay…" She gently pushed him toward the bedroom. "Go… Take a shower. Dinner is almost ready."

* * *

Ed came into the bedroom and sank wearily on the bed, unbuttoning his shirt. Sophie was right. They both really needed to spend some time together. Talk—only the father and son—without the involvement of 'Constable Lane'.

Suddenly he hit the bed with his fist. _Hell!_ When had he become such a hard-ass? What came first, his hard-ass behavior or Clark's attitude? Chicken or the egg? What the hell happened to him? When had he become for his son more a cop than his father? He dropped his face in his hands. For several minutes he sat there without moving, thinking…

Currently, the house was silent and peaceful. Some pleasant aromas from the kitchen began to penetrate his sense of smell and his stomach growled in anticipation. In a couple of minutes the tension began to leave him. A timid hope that he would still get his well-deserved quiet family evening once again glimmered in him.

Low bass chords from above hit in his ears again and all his tension immediately returned. Ed muttered a curse. His ears heard crap; Clark's obviously heard only cool stuff. The generation gap was alive and well.

He resolutely got to his feet. It was time to do something about it; time begun to mend their strained, strayed relationship. Yes, tomorrow they would go fishing, talk heart to heart, clear the air between them, and they would be good, as before. He was definitely going to salvage this mess.

(tbc)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Don't mind if we dropped in on Old Ben, do you?" Ed asked Clark with a false air of calmness, glancing in the rearview mirror.

Seated in the back seat, the teenager just looked pointedly at his watch.

"I'm sure it's already open. You know, old people always get up early, Clark." Ed tried to joke.

The only reply he got was a stony glare.

"Old Ben would be glad to see you, Clark."

No answer.

"Cat got your tongue?" Ed could not keep his growing irritation.

"I don't care," his son finally spoke with evident annoyance. "And let me be clear. It was your bright idea to go on this damn fishing trip. Not mine. I was happy in my room, with my door shut. You forced me to come. Fine! But I'm doing it for Mom. So don't even try to force me to 'talk'. I'm fed up with your talks." With these words the teenager pulled out his Smartphone, placed the ear buds in his ears and turned to the window, folding his arms and not looking at his father again.

Ed's blood went straight to the boil. His grip around the steering wheel was so tight he could feel it through his arms and up into his shoulders. He bit his lips, almost painfully, holding back the curses, trying to keep himself from snapping at his son. Clark was rude to him. It was just... unthinkable!

He did not take his eyes off the road, almost panting with effort to bring himself under control.

What the hell should he do now? Stop the car, pull the damn ear buds out of Clark's ears, throw them away and..? A new quarrel would be the result. Not an option. Turn home and give up? Not an option, either. Remain silent and allow this rudeness to go without response? Worst option, but it looked like the only one possible right now. _Crap._ He threw a short glance in the rearview mirror again. The teenager sat scowling, gloomily looking out the window.

Ed sighed, steering his truck silently, itching for some jackass to cut him off so he could yell his frustrations out the window, as a release. The bonding trip wasn't going according to plan...

Frowning, he turned onto the road leading to Old Ben's shop…

Old Ben had been old for as long as Ed could remember. Even thirty years ago—when Ed's father took him and Roy into his small shop for the first time to buy some fishing gear—even then Old Ben was already gray. Since that time, it seemed nothing had changed. The same neat shop filled with all the stuff that could make every fisherman happy; the same old gray man who every time hugged Ed tightly, calling him, as thirty years ago, 'Eddie boy'.

Ed knew that Clark adored Old Ben's shop and the old man himself. The visits here had always been a constant part of their fishing trips, and they weren't going to exchange this place for some convenient Internet retailer when buying fishing gear.

 _Maybe a visit here could help to melt the wall of ice that's suddenly grown between me and my son,_ Ed thought with a hope while he was parking the car.

He entered the shop and smiled broadly when he heard the very familiar ringing of a small door bell. Still smiling, Ed went into the depths of the room, up to the counter, where he saw an old man, sitting as always, with a newspaper in his hands.

He threw only a short glance at Clark. The teenager with the same grim expression on his face turned into one of the side aisles and began glumly looking at spoon-baits.

They were not the only visitors in the store at this early hour. Passing by one of the aisles, Ed noticed a young couple.

"Well, well. Look who's here! Eddie-boy!" The old man got up to meet him and as Ed approached, he drew him into a tight hug. "Danny, come here!" Ben cried toward the open door of the utility room and out walked a young man. Ed recognized one of Ben's grandsons, Daniel. They greeted each other with a smile.

The usual good-natured exchange of news and jokes followed after that.

"And where is Clark? Is he with you?" suddenly asked Ben and Ed winced unwittingly.

He turned around to look at the end of shop where Clark had strayed but did not see him; then he looked back at the old man. "He is here... Just not in the mood. Sorry Ben…" Ed shrugged apologetically. "He's fifteen," he added grimly and fell silent, as if this would explain everything.

There was a deep, grandfatherly chuckle. "One night you put to bed the cute, sweet child, and next morning from his room comes out the belligerent, impatient and sarcastic asshole. You begin to ask yourself: 'Who is this stranger and what do you do with him now?'" Ben kindly patted Ed's shoulder. "That's what I tell you, son. There's nothing you can do, only to endure. It will pass, believe me. I raised up three sons and seven grandchildren," he said, and mockingly slapped Daniel on the back.

The doorbell rang softly.

Ed lowered his head, chuckled bitterly. "I am trying to endure, but it's not helping, either one of us. I really do not know what to do, Ben ..." he sighed heavily and rubbed his hand over his face.

Ben did not answer, but only made a strange strangled sound. Ed raised his head.

Eyes wide open with pure horror, the old man and his grandson were looking unblinkingly at something behind Ed's back.

He jerked, twisting his body away from the counter, all aware and prepared for anything... And instantly stood rooted, stunned.

"D…dad…"

His son was standing in the center of the main passage with a thin, sharp switchblade pressed against his throat. Behind Clark, holding him tightly by the collar was a pale man of about thirty, his face covered with three-day stubble; his eyes desperate, haunted.

Ed's heart froze within him – all too often he saw a similar look during the hot calls on the job. It was the look of a man standing on the edge. A man with nothing left to lose…

Reflexively, Ed's right hand jerked to his right leg, where he usually fixed his gun in the hip-holster. But not today. Helplessly, he clenched his hands into fists.

He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, forcing himself to gather his thoughts, trying to push his own horror and panic deep inside. Later. He would allow himself the luxury of being terrified later. Only after his son was safe. Not now. He couldn't afford to lose control now.

 _Concentrate. Inhale. Exhale. You've been trained in what to do in situations like this._

Ed slowly raised his hands clearly in view by his sides so the attacker could see them. Vaguely, he heard the heavy breathing of Old Ben and Daniel behind him and was glad that they made no attempt to talk or to make any action. But there remained that young couple; Ed could hear their muffled voices from some far aisle.

His senses were sharpened to the limit. His eyes were fixed on the blade that was tapping Clark's throat, not hard enough to break the skin, not yet, but enough to make Ed's inside go cold. _Easy. Easy…_

"Easy, easy…" Ed said in a level tone, speaking not only to the intruder but mostly to Clark, keeping his eyes locked on his son.

"It's okay, Clark, just don't move. Everything's going to be fine." Ed went on talking, trying to keep his voice from wavering. He licked his lips. Though he sounded calm, his heart was racing and his mouth was dry.

He slowly raised his hands non-threateningly before him, still keeping his eyes locked on Clark's face. Fear was emanating from the boy; his terror-stricken, widened eyes did not even blink. "You're doing great," Ed nodded to him with a small smile. "We're going to get out of this. You'll be ok. You just need to stay calm, kiddo. Stay calm. I'm sure this man is not going to hurt you…"

Clark's lips trembled as if he was going to say something.

 _No_ , Ed shook his head slowly, looking intently into his son's eyes. _Not a word_. He did not know what Clark was going to say, but he could not risk it. Under no circumstances should he allow the attacker to know that he was a cop.

Clark blinked but remained silent. Ed nodded to him reassuringly and took a small step towards the pair.

"Stay back!" the guy spoke up for the first time and Ed's experienced ear immediately caught the pure panic in his tense voice. _Not good..._ Calm people could be reasoned with. People in a panic were much harder to reach. And the worst thing was that they could be capable of any foolish, unpredictable act. They were certainly capable of violence…

 _I have to calm him down. This is the first thing. De-escalate him, reassure him; reduce the risk. Then gain his trust. I can do it. I can do it..._

"Look," he ventured to make direct eye contact with the jittery man, still approaching gingerly. "Look, I know you don't want to hurt this kid..."

"Stay back!" the guy repeated in a shaky voice. "I'll do this! I… I mean it!"

The blade pressed harder against Clark's throat.

"Wait, wait!" Ed shook his head and took a step back, keeping his palms level with his shoulders and forcing his face to remain impassive. "You shouldn't do this… I'm not going to give you any trouble," he said evenly and took a deep breath against the growing panic. "I just want my son to be safe. He's my son. His name is Clark..."

Ed paused for a moment, to make sure the guy absorbed the information. From now the hostage in his hands was not some impersonal stranger. Now he had a name. Ed knew that it was much harder to hurt someone you had connected to. With great relief, he noticed the pressure of the blade at Clark's throat weaken.

"Thank you," he said as he nodded to the guy. "Thank you. Now… Just tell me what you want and I'll help you. Do you hear? Let me help you." The last sentence Ed said pointedly, looking straight into the guy's face.

For a moment, a wild hope flashed in the crazed man's wide-open eyes; but it immediately fled. With an expression of desperate determination the robber shook his head. "I do not need any help. You!" His nervous, jumpy gaze darted to Ben. "Open the register!"

He pushed Clark in the back and they took a few slow steps to the counter.

Ed stood silently, eyes fixed on the blade, counting the distance in case… if ... No, too far. Too risky. He clenched his teeth almost painfully and just waited.

He could clearly see that the guy was not a career criminal. All signs pointed to the fact that this was his first robbery. Only an inexperienced robber would choose such a shop and such an early hour for the attack.

On the one hand, it was good. The lack of experience meant that the guy might be easier to persuade to give up his plan. Or he just could break down under the pressure and just run away at any time. On the other hand... it would have been much easier for Ed to work with an experienced criminal. Right now it was like walking on thin ice. It was difficult to predict what could trigger this man's aggression, and what would calm him down. And what would happen when the guy found out it was unlikely there was a lot of money in the register?

"Son, listen ..." Ed heard the quiet low voice of Old Ben, "I'll open the register and you can pick up everything that is there. But it's only two hundred bucks. We opened only an hour ago ... Danny, come on, open it…" His grandson, a little pale but calm, opened the cash register and stepped aside. "Here…" Ben nodded, "Take everything. Just let the boy go…"

The robber stared at Ben, stunned. "What ... what did you say?! Two… Two hundred? That's it?" he said hoarsely. He looked terrified.

Ed's body tensed to action. Now, faced with the crash of his plans and hopes, the attacker could potentially do anything. Carefully, he made a small step towards Clark and the robber.

Then the hand holding the knife weakened and lowered.

Ed saw a chance. _Just need to come closer… Just a little..._ _While all guy's attention is focused on Ben at the cash register_. He took a half step forward. Now there were just a couple of meters between them. The guy did not notice anything, but Ed could see that Clark saw his movement. He looked his son in the eyes and nodded slightly. _You'll be fine. I will not let him hurt you_. Clark blinked in response, and there was none of the previous wild panic in his eyes. Fear, yes, but also a hope and faith. Full and boundless faith in his father.

Ed's throat was suddenly too small for breath. A hot wave of deep love, mixed with horror and guilt and remorse struck him like an unexpected punch to his stomach. How stupid-looking now was all their bickering and quarrels; all his nitpicking of his son! His breathing quickened; emotions choked him from within.

 _God, I can't lose him. Please. I can't lose my son._

He could not move. Even if there was a chance to attack the guy now, when the knife was lowered, Ed could not take it. Too much was at stake… His mind saw the opportunity, his well trained body was ready to act and knew perfectly what to do, and yet... he stood rooted. His breath stuck in his throat, his chest becoming tight with fear, nausea a heavy weight in his stomach. All his famous tenacity, level-headedness and hardness, all his training suddenly were gone, leaving him just a terrified father.

 _No! Pull yourself together!_ Ed snapped at himself _._ _The distraught father is not needed or helpful at this time. Clark needs Constable Lane now._

He forcefully gathered himself up.

 _Subject. Hostage. You've worked through similar situations hundreds of times! It is impossible to forget that the hostage is your son, your only child. But you can try to temporarily block it. Come on!_ _Clamp down on the emotion. Clear head. Do it. Just do your work!_

His self-control slowly returned.

He saw that the robber had loosened his grip on the collar of Clark's jacket. But most importantly, the hand with the knife was still lowered downwards. Numbly and motionless, the guy stared into space, obviously shocked. It was the best point to try to establish a connection to the subject, Ed knew.

"Hey ..." he began quietly. "May I ask your name?"

"Kevin..." the guy replied indifferently; barely audible.

 _Fine._ He responded and Ed felt a growing hope. He knew that was a good sign – it meant the subject was still open to dialogue and suggestion. It meant he could still be reached. _And his name!_ Ed grabbed at this.

"Kevin? Wow. It's a great name. That's the name one of my best friends. His full name is Kevin Wordsworth, but we just call him 'Wordy'... He is Clark's godfather by the way," Ed was saying in a steady and calm tone, watching the guy's expression intently.

 _Negotiating 101: Never lie to the subject. Even in the details._ Ed was glad he could be sincere with the guy. Sincerity leads to trust ... And if Kevin's subconscious responded to the word 'friend', it would be very helpful. You can't cause harm to your friend; or to the son of your friend...

The guy raised his head and looked at Ed, and Ed was struck by the depth of despair that he saw there.

"Kevin. Listen to me ..." he spoke up in his best convincing tone. "I'm begging you: let Clark go... He is a child. After that, you can just leave. You haven't hurt anyone. No complaints. Just go. Go…" Ed waited a moment before continuing. "Or you can tell me what happened and I will try to help you if you let me. I promise you that I'll help you. But let my son go. Kevin?"

He waited. Kevin blinked, his posture became less tense. Ed felt his hesitation and knew he was on the right track.

"I ... No, yeah, no, I, I didn't…" Kevin began to mutter quietly, "I didn't mean it. I didn't want to hurt anyone," he licked his lips nervously, "I never… I messed with the wrong people. I owe them money. I just had no choice, do you understand me?"

"I understand," Ed mirrored with a nod, keeping his voice and posture non-confrontational.

"If I do not return the money to him this morning, he'll kill me ..." Kevin's voice was filled with horror and desperation, "He'll kill me. I don't want to die… I don't want… He'll kill me…"

Ed frowned. "Who, Kevin? Tell me?" he probed softly, choosing his words carefully. "You can trust me. I have some friends in the police, they could help…"

Kevin glanced at him sharply. "No, no! Not the police, no ..." he shook his head; his eyes flashed with fear and something close to hatred. It made Ed glad Kevin still did not know he was a cop.

"Okay, okay. No police," Ed uttered with a nod. "But let Clark go and we can talk ..."

 _Dammit._ Just one more second and the guy would let Clark go. Ed saw it well.

Right then, the couple that was still hanging around in the shop chose to emerge from one of the side aisles.

For a split second everyone froze.

The next moment the young woman, looking at the switchblade in Kevin's hand, shrieked; fear washed over her face. The man next to her dropped the bundle of rods that he held in his hands and began move backwards, open-mouthed.

The knife flew up to Clark's throat.

The woman screamed again.

 _Crap. Crap!_

"Dad..." Clark made a choking noise.

"Kevin, NO!" Ed shouted and rushed forward, standing between two pairs of people, with one hand stretched out to Kevin, the other to the young couple. "Calm down! It's all right! You," he glanced at the couple, "Just go out, now. Please! We're all right. Kevin?" He looked at the robber. "Calm down. Nothing has happened. They're leaving. Just stay calm and put the knife down. Put. It. Down..."

Behind him, Ed heard the door slam and the woman's screams from the street. She was calling for the police...

"Kevin, look at me." Ed met the robber's gaze. "You can still get away; you have a few minutes until the police arrive. Come on man, go, now! Or you will be in a lot more trouble." Ed stepped aside, clearing a passage to the exit. "Go..."

Kevin's eyes searched his for a long moment.

Ed waited patiently.

Then the robber nodded silently. Slowly, he lowered the knife and Ed nodded his silent approval. Still holding Clark before him, the would-be robber began backing toward the exit, never taking his eyes from Ed. Ed followed them slowly, hands still raised in front of him, trying to predict the further action of this man. Would he let Clark go when he reached the door? Yes, more than likely... Or would he take him out with him?

 _No, no way_. Ed was not going to let that happen.

Every second he expected to hear approaching sirens and feared this. _This only might complicate everything._

They almost made it to the exit...

From the corner of his eyes Ed noticed the shadow of a figure crossing behind the door's frosted window, but he had no time to do anything. The front door burst open and Ed caught a glimpse of a black uniform.

"POLICE! FREEZE!"

 _Damn it!_ For once, the cavalry had arrived too soon.

Kevin turned his head toward the door and Ed saw the look of terror quickly filled the man's eyes. "Not the police!" His mouth fell open as he was gasping for air, staring wide-eyed past Ed with an expression of the most dreadful horror. "Not the police!" He began to back away from the door, holding Clark before him as a shield, until his back hit the nearest wall.

 _Easy, easy…_ Ed followed him, not taking his gaze from the guy and his knife."Kevin, stay-"

"NO! GET AWAY!" The robber stretched out his hand, pointing the knife towards the cop behind Ed's back as if it was a gun. The extended limb was wavering.

"Drop the knife RIGHT NOW! Leave the boy and GET DOWN NOW!"

"No!" the robber gasped hoarsely.

 _Kevin, please, just don't do anything stupid…_ "Kevin! Stay calm!"

"Down! Down on the floor, drop to your knees! Hands on your head! NOW! "

Kevin looked at Ed with mad eyes, "Make him go away! MAKE HIM!" he yelled.

"Kevin, buddy, just listen to me," Ed spoke up, "You have to stay calm and you can walk out of here just don't do-"

"NO!"

"…Robbery in progress. One suspect, one knife, one hostage taken. Extreme caution…" Ed heard the cop was reporting into his radio, "…Need backup..."

 _Not just backup! We need the SRU!_ Ed exclaimed mentally without turning around, his eyes still fixed on the man, holding his son.

He felt a glimmer of hope, after receiving information about a hostage situation, the police would most likely call the SRU for support as such situations usually demanded. _Unless they planned firstly to resolve it on their own…_

"I want to leave! I don't want to die!" the robber gasped for breath, slipping further into panic. The next moment his hand with the switchblade flew up to the boy's throat and Clark gave a stifled scream.

 _Shit!_ "Kevin, DON'T!" Ed growled in frustration.

"DROP THE KNIFE!"

"GET AWAY FROM ME! Make him go away!" Kevin was shouting, his eyes darting between Ed and the cop.

"You mister step aside and stand back! NOW!"

Ed realized that the last phrase was addressed to him, but he made no move.

"Dad?" Clark whispered only with his lips, looking at his father fearfully.

 _Hold on, son_ … "Clark, don't move. Kevin, look at me! Just stay with me!" Ed desperately tried to regain man's attention and bring the situation back under control. He took a step instinctively towards the attacker, his eyes fixed on the blade and on the deathly pale face of his son. His mind was racing, his heart jacking up into its overdrive mode.

 _Think, think, come up with something!_

Suddenly he realized that Clark's stunned glance was directed now at something behind Ed. For a moment he ventured take a quick look over his shoulder toward the cop near the door.

The next thing he saw was a big black gun, aimed in Clark's direction.

(tbc)


	3. Chapter 3

Without thought, Ed stepped toward the police officer and the black barrel swung menacingly in his direction. Dimly, he heard a frightened and distant "No, Ed!" from Ben and Daniel, but ignored it. His vision tunneled, narrowed down to the blurred semi-automatic Beretta in the cop's hands aimed in Clark's direction.

"Don't move! You stop right there, mister! STOP RIGHT THERE!"

Ed slowly shook his head without even acknowledging the command. No thinking, no analysis, no hesitation. Only a parental instinct. Anything to get the gun away from his son. Everything to protect his child.

"I said STOP!"

Ed took another step forward, his heart was hammering double-time. Now he stood between the cop and the robber who was holding his son; the black barrel pointed directly at his own chest. And, for once in his life, he felt relief seeing a gun with the safety off aimed at himself.

Only after he was sure that his body was guarding his son from the Beretta, did Ed dare take his eyes from the gun, and look straight at the cop's face.

 _Oh, damn…_ Ed's heart sank even more.

Before him stood a greenhorn, a youngster obviously only recently out of the Academy. A hot-headed pup, like all rookies flaming with the desire to save the whole world from all bad guys, brain crowded with countless guidelines and instructions, but with no real experience. And besides, nervous as hell… The worst combination of all.

Apparently, the kid had rushed up here at the cries of that couple, and… had fallen into the middle of the situation which he was not able to sort out.

This was insane. Surreal. The criminal—who was currently holding the blade at the throat of his son—now scared Ed less than this professional officer of the law. The knife pressed to Clark's throat was bad enough, but the gun aimed in his direction was much worse. He knew all too well what a firearms can do, and even the fact that the gun was in a cop's hands now wouldn't make a bullet any less fatal.

 _Just a small muscle tremor, a twitching finger..._ Ed's mouth went dry and he felt the sweat start to seep from his brow. _Oh God, kid, what are you doing?! Put the gun down!_

"You stay right there mister!" The rookie ordered with a slight tremble in his voice. He watched Ed warily, obviously not knowing how to categorize this shaved-headed and dangerous-looking civilian who suddenly stood up for the criminal and put himself in the line of fire.

Ed glanced at cop's name tag.

"Officer Howell," he began evenly, "Please—"

"Let me go!" Kevin's panting wail from behind interrupted him. "I've got to get out of here, now! Let me go!"

The cop's glance flicked to the robber and his hostage. He braced the gun with both hands and spread his feet to the width of his shoulders. "Drop the knife! On the floor, face down! Now! I said NOW!"

 _Damn, Howell! Don't you see?! The subject is on the edge, don't push him! Stop threatening him!_ Ed mentally yelled at the young cop.

"Officer, please… Put your gun down. That's not going to help..." he spoke up again, keeping his voice calm and low. "Let's just slow things down a bit, okay? No one needs to get hurt here. I'm the father of this hostage and I –"

"I told you step back, mister! NOW!" the rookie cut him off harshly. His gaze darted between the robber and Ed, clear suspicion in his eyes. "And…" his voice hardened, "Put your hands up!"

 _Heck!_ Apparently the rookie, having no experience of similar situations and not really knowing what to do, just decided to rely on instructions drilled into his head at the Academy and now considered Ed as a possible subject, as well. _All right, strictly according to protocol_ , the cop in Ed was forced to admit. _All the participants at the scene must be considered as possible suspects…_ And yet, the other part of him was sure that if a more experienced officer had been in place of this young cop, everything would have been different. All the guidelines in the world could never replace real-life experience…

"I can help," Ed slowly began to raise his hands. "I can help."

"Officer! He is the father of this boy! Please, put your weapon down!" Ben and Daniel's cries sounded in unison from the back part of the store.

The rookie quickly glanced at them and apparently they roused no suspicion. "You both leave the room! Now!" he barked toward the two men, but his posture remained the same. The muzzle of the gun, aimed at Ed's chest, didn't lower an inch.

Ben and Daniel remained standing where they were.

"MAKE HIM LET ME GO!" Kevin's voice howled again and Ed gritted his teeth with frustration. Every time Kevin shouted, the rookie's gaze darted in his direction and the black muzzle slightly shifted.

 _No, look at me... Look only at me..._ Ed mentally pleaded, still keeping himself blocking the line of fire.

"Dad…" Behind Ed the tiny whisper fluttered, between the shuddering gasps.

"Hang on, Clark. Everything will be alright," Ed said without turning, forcing himself to remain calm despite a tight knot of fear gripping his belly _._ _I promise you kiddo… whatever I have to do… I will get you out of this. I promise you that..._

His mind was working frantically running through all the possible solutions.

 _Not many options…_

All he could do now was try to hold the rookie's attention on himself, distract him from Kevin, distract Kevin from the cop, reassure them all and give them a sense of control. And at all costs he'd have to reduce the level of stress, without allowing anyone to cross the line and do something irreparable…

 _Reduce stress. Reduce stress._ _How the hell could he reduce stress if he felt himself on the verge?_ He knew he could not reassure anyone if he was not totally calm and tranquil. But how he could stay calm at this time when his son's life was at stake?! Primeval, uncontrollable, savage parent's fear for his child was threatening to overwhelm him.

Ed barely suppressed a groan as he fought off a new wave of sickening panic. As much as he tried, he knew he wasn't as collected as the situation demanded. His brain wouldn't let him focus on anything other than the knowledge that it was Clark at gunpoint and with the blade pressed to his throat; that it was his only son's life that hung in the balance.

It was worse than being caught between two fires. He was forced to reassure not only this jumpy criminal and cop. Suddenly, his own mind turned into a horrified subject with which Ed also had to deal with now.

Ed made a immense effort to collect himself and again tried to focus on his training.

 _Concentrate! You've handled far trickier situations than this one! Talk! Stall! Do something! Just don't let it be personal…_

"Officer Howell, please, " Ed begun, fumbling for something to say, "We all need to slow things down here a little…"

"Mister, you're interfering with the police. Hands up and step back!"

"Officer…"

"Now put them UP!"

Ed couldn't stop a sudden wave of irrational anger. _Who taught you, Howell?_ _Who taught you to threaten a panicked attacker who's holding a knife to the throat of a child?! Who taught you to aim at a civilian?!_ _You have to defuse the situation, not escalate it! Your only priority is the hostage's safety, not the disarmament of the criminal! Think about it!_

He gritted his teeth and raised his hands up, struggling to keep his face passive, not allowing the cop to see his inner anger.

 _Heck! Why him_ _?! Why this raw nervous rookie?!_ Ed mentally groaned in frustration.

Police dispatcher's voice came from the radio on the officer's shoulder, requesting the situation, and Howell reach out with one hand to the radio, without taking a wary eye from Ed. "Howell's here. Holding down two suspects. The situation is under control," he reported quickly and again grabbed his Beretta with both hands.

Ed stared at him dumbfounded. _What did you say?!_ _Under control? ! Are you out of your fucking mind, Howell?_

He looked the rookie straight in the face. "Holding the hostage and the civilian at gunpoint - you sure this is control, Officer?" he asked in a low voice, barely able to contain his growing anger.

Howell licked his lips nervously, the suspicion in his eyes increasingly asserted itself. "You ... I repeat, you are interfering with the police, mister! If you resist, I will have to use force!" Face hardened and expressionless, the cop leveled his weapon at the Ed's face.

Ed forced himself remain motionless, still looking at the young cop levelly. "No resistance. I'm just trying to prevent a terrible mistake, Officer. This is a difficult situation. Perhaps it would be better if you call a professional negotiator here. Call the SRU. Please, call the SRU," he repeated quietly but persistently.

Rookie's face jerked with annoyance and a bitter thought flashed through Ed's mind.

 _Well… Maybe the young Officer Howell has a different priority than a hostage's safety_. _Maybe the kid wanted to do everything without any help._

A wave of despair went through Ed.

 _What, Howell? Do you already see your name and photo on the front pages of the newspapers?_ _Already picturing yourself getting an award for detaining the robber and rescuing a hostage all by yourself? Is this the reason why you decided to go here alone_ _without waiting for your colleagues to arrive? Shit! Did_ _they forget to tell you in the Academy that this job is not about brandishing big_ _guns or about fame? That it's about saving lives?!_

Now Ed was close to grabbing his ID out of his pocket, thrusting his badge in the face of this youngster, yelling at him, and then pushing him out the door…But no matter how much he wanted to do this, he knew he couldn't.

"Let me go… Let me go…" There were sobs and hysterical muttering behind him.

 _Kevin._ For some reason the attacker who is currently holding the knife, pressed against Clark's throat- he fears and hates cops…

Ed knew better than to give a desperate man any reason to panic further. Now Kevin trusts him. He thinks Ed is on his side. If he found out that Ed was also a cop, it would only create more danger for Clark. A risk that Ed knew he could not take.

So, he battled with himself to remain standing still and quiet, with his hands up.

"Now step aside!" the young cop ordered sharply.

"I'm sorry, Officer Howell," Ed shook hid head, keeping his voice carefully modulated. "I know you are acting according to protocol, but I can't. Not while you're aiming a gun at my son. Please, put it down and maybe we can talk about what's going on here, okay? No one needs to get hurt." The tiniest shake in his voice made him clip the end of his sentence abruptly. _This is crazy. I have to de-escalate the cop_ …

"Make him leave now! Make that cop get out of here! DON'T LET HIM KILL ME! PLEASE! I don't want to die!" The voice of the robber from behind began to sound like hysterical howling.

Ed winced. The subject was escalating and he didn't know how much longer Kevin would able to withstand such stress or what would he do when he finally broke down...

"Easy, Kevin! Everything is going to be okay!" Ed said with all the confidence that he could muster, trying to draw the subject's attention back to himself. He didn't turn around, not wanting to lose sight of the cop and his Beretta. He could hear the sounds of Kevin's ragged breathing and his growing sobbing from behind him. But no sound from Clark... He barely suppressed the urge to turn to look at his son.

"Drop the knife and down! Down on the floor, NOW!" officer's eyes again flicked to the robber.

"Officer Howell." Ed immediately took half a step forward, returning cop's attention to himself, "Maybe you shouldn't push him too hard? He's on edge. Maybe you should try to de-escalate him first," he forced to keep his voice even and quiet, but was looking into the rookie's eyes as intensely as he could. "Let's just... take a little pressure off, okay?" _Come on, Howell. Turn on your brain. I'm using your professional slang, I'm calmly standing in front of the gun aimed at me. Time to guess that I'm also a cop!_

"Hands behind your head and … get down on your knees!" The voice of the young cop became more threatening, and Ed guessed that Officer Howell had decisively determined him to be an accomplice to the crime.

 _DAMN IT!_ Ed was sure that any other cop would have caught the hint and could have figured it out, and then definitely involved him in the negotiation as a third-party intermediary. _God, son! Where's your partner, the more experienced and more adequate officer? Why the hell are you alone?_

"On your knees, mister! Now!"

Ed made no move.

"I want to leave! I don't want to die! I don't want to!" The new howl of distress came from Kevin.

Ed tensed. The guy's stress was rapidly increasing. _As well as the rookie's_ , Ed winced involuntarily, noticing the stubborn resolve firming on Howell's face.

"Officer, I'm not going cause problems. You and me, we're all playing for the same team now,' Ed struggled again. "I am the father of this boy. I am the father of the hostage. I can help you to reassure the attacker. You should think about the hostage, Officer. It's the first priority..."

Howell was not listening to him. "Let the hostage go! Get on your knees, hands behind your head! Or I will shoot!" He barked the order to the panicked robber, causing a new surge of disappointment and vexation in Ed. _Shoot?!_ _Shit, Howell, what are you doing?! He is at the end of his line, stop threatening him!_

"NOOOO! No-no-no! Let me go! Or I'll kill him!" Kevin screamed, "I swear I will!"

Ed's blood turned cold.

 _Crossing the line._

He knew all too well what might follow after this final threat if the cop followed protocol. _No!_

"Wait! He's not going do this, Officer!" Ed cried out, seeing the rookie tighten his grip on the gun. "He's panicking! He is not thinking straight! "

"Don't make me do THIS! Let me go!"

 _Damn Kevin, shut up!_ Ed thought fiercely.

"I'LL KILL…" Kevin started yelling again.

"Kevin, STOP!" Ed cut him off, "Calm down! Nobody will die today! Calm down and we all be safe! You'll be safe!"

"NOOOO!"

That was it. Kevin couldn't take the pressure much longer; he needed an outlet. Ed knew he would have to act quickly to stop the subject from falling apart further. But he needed to watch Kevin's face to make a connection with him. This meant turning his back to the officer and losing the sight of the gun, which would still be aimed at him and at Clark... All Ed's instincts were shouting against this. But there was no chance to calm the panicking guy while standing with his back to him.

Ed made his decision.

He began to turn his body sideways. As he began to move, Ed saw cop's eyes narrow and his finger tighten on the trigger. Ed froze for a moment.

"I just want to slow him down," he said, looking straight into rookie's eyes. "Please, Officer, let me try to calm him..." He persisted, and then ventured to turn his head, glancing over his shoulder at Clark and Kevin.

His son was still; eyes on his pale face were distant, empty. _He's in shock; my God, he's in shock_...

Kevin was looking past Ed, at the gun; tears were running down his face, his red-rimmed eyes wild and unpredictable. "I want… I just want all this to be over…" he moaned.

"Kevin. Look at me. Please, look at me. I know you're tired, buddy. I know you're tired…" Ed began quietly, attempting to placate the man. "But you can still walk out of here. You still have a chance. Just…"

"No ..." Kevin said hoarsely, shaking his head. "It's over… I'm off, now..." he pushed Clark in the back.

"DON'T MOVE!"

"Kevin, no!" Ed stepped towards him, still trying to gain eye contact with the distraught man. "Don't do it!"

"I told you not to move!" came the shout from behind.

"I'M OFF NOW!"

"KEVIN!"

Then something flashed in Kevin's terrified eyes and with a jolt Ed knew what was coming. His stomach clenched and he snapped round toward the cop. "Officer, NO! HOLD YOUR FI—"

The sound of close gunfire was deafening.

Yet, Ed had heard a scream from behind. Clark's scream. The scream of his son, terrible and brief.

Time stopped.

(tbc)


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 **A/N:** Sorry it has taken me so long to update — real life has taken me away from my writing.

Please, do not forget that I'm non-native writer. I really do my best to make this story readable and understandable and interesting. Thank you for reading!

Many thanks to Ace Bullets for her help! All mistakes are mine!

* * *

 ** _Previously_**

 _"No ..." the robber said hoarsely, shaking his head. "It's over… I'm off!" He pushed Clark in the back, still holding the blade to the throat of the boy._

 _"Kevin, no! Don't do it. Don't do it, buddy!" Ed took a step towards him, still trying to gain eye contact with the distraught man._

 _A bark of command from the cop came again: "Drop the knife! Now! Or I will shoot!"_

 _"NO! I'M OFF, NOW!"_

 _"Kevin!"_

 _Then something flashed in Kevin's terrified eyes and with a jolt, and Ed knew what was coming. His stomach clenched and he snapped round toward the young cop behind him. "Officer, NO! HOLD YOUR FI—"_

 _The sound of close gunfire was deafening._

 _Yet, Ed had heard a scream. Clark's scream. The scream of his son, terrible and brief._

 _Time stopped..._

* * *

 ** _Now_**

 _Turn around and look._

He couldn't.

Ed stood immobile, paralyzed by terror he had never experienced before, staring dully at the black barrel in front of him now lowered to the floor. Too shocked to move. To breathe. To turn around.

 _Please…God, no... Please..._

He made the mistake of taking a deep breath. A smell of gunpowder, heavy and acrid, still hung in the air. This smell, so familiar and routine in his work—one he even liked to smell— now caused a wave of nausea. He swallowed hard and lifted his eyes to the young cop in front of him.

Face ashen, eyes wide and dark with horror, the rookie was gazing shell-shocked at the scene behind Ed's back.

 _His first body… His first kill shot… His first. Body… Bodies? Turn around. And look._

Another second passed.

Ed turned...

… and pressed his lips between his teeth against a cry that was rising in his throat.

 _No, no, this is not happening_ , he shook his head in denial, blinked, but everything swam in and out of focus. His heart was pounding; his chest was so tight he feared that at any moment he would no longer be able to breathe.

Two bodies were lying in the corner; the bigger one toppled against the smaller; a huge pool of blood expanding around them... There was no movement. No sound.

 _He can't be… he just can't… God, no… Please don't let him be dead…please don't take my only son from me…_ He wanted to scream, to howl, but couldn't find his voice.

Ed forced his feet to move. _Clark was okay_ , he told himself with every step. _He'd be okay. He'll be okay_.

When he had crossed the few feet that separated them, his knees buckled. He heavily dropped on the floor.

Gently, he pushed the top body aside, pulling it from Clark, trying not to concentrate at the back of dead man's skull, on the congealing blood, the splinters of bone, the flecks of grey...

Clark was lying on his side, eyes closed; his face relaxed as if he was asleep. But… There were red droplets splattered on his face, in his hair, and Ed's breathing restricted even further, his whole chest tightened painfully. He slowly reached for the pale cheek, but did not finish the movement, his hand paused in mid-air.

 _No._

Someone knelt heavily beside him and a wide palm touched Clark's neck, checking the pulse. Ed just sat there, motionless, trapped between horror and desperation, his eyes wide, glued to his son.

"He's alive, Eddie," the low, trembling voice said. Then strong hands grabbed Ed by the shoulders, shaking him gently, forcing him to tear his eyes away from Clark. Ben's pale face swam into Ed's field of vision. "He just fainted. He's alive..."

 _Alive._

"He's not harmed. You hear me, son?" Another shaking.

Ed nodded absently, unable to utter a word. He couldn't get himself to think past Ben's first sentence.

 _Alive._

Numbly, he brought one shaky hand to Clark's forehead, trying to wipe away splashes of blood, but all he managed to do was smear it around. He sucked in an uneven, convulsive breath.

Beside him, Ben said something in a low voice. A moment later his hand returned with a package of wet wipes and the old man began hastily wiping Clark's face and hair.

 _Alive... Alive…_

Clark's quiet moan snapped Ed out of his trance.

"Clark?" he called in a husky, hardly audible voice. He made an attempt to clear his throat and called out once more, this time louder. "Clark, son, open your eyes…" He gently tapped the boy's cheek but got no reaction. "Kiddo, can you hear me?" He put his hand on his shoulder and softly squeezed.

Clark stirred slightly and then his eyelids flickered, eyes opening up in the smallest of degrees. He blinked muzzily up at his father.

"Dad?" he whispered.

Ed smiled faintly, "Yeah, kiddo, it's me. I'm right here…"He trailed off for a moment, his throat suddenly felt too tight to speak.

Clark stirred again, this time more strongly as if trying to rise.

"Lie still, lie still…" Ed stopped his movement. "Son, do you feel any pain, anywhere?" he asked, and couldn't keep his hands from shaking as he gently brushed a few strands of mussed hair off his son's forehead.

Clark only lightly shook his head. He closed his eyes tight, and tears ran down from under his eyelids. "I ... I was scared that he was going to shoot you... that you would… die..." he gasped roughly, stammering at every word before releasing his breath in a loud, hitching sob.

In one motion, Ed grabbed Clark by the shoulders and brought him to his chest. He pressed him close in an embrace, burying his face into his son's hair, breathing in his scent. "Shhh... I'm fine kiddo..." he muttered, his voice quavering. All his emotions were on a ragged edge now. Bitter realization hit him. While he was standing at gunpoint, protecting Clark and fearing for his life, all that time, exactly the same, Clark was terrified for his father's life.

 _My son…My little boy…_ Ed tightened his arms around Clark. "We are both fine… We'll be all right…" he whispered into the tangled hair, as much to himself as to his son. "I've got you kiddo. I've got you. You're safe now. I'm… I'm so sorry…"he said hoarsely. Suddenly he was choking on something that was dangerously close to a sob. He gritted his teeth almost painfully. The tears were there, right below his breastbone, and it took all of Ed's strength to hold them at bay.

One of his hands slipped into the disheveled locks and guided Clark's head over to come to rest in the crook of his neck, allowing his cheek to rest carefully on the boy's crown, thanking God for the heartbeat that was drumming against his own.

Ed could feel Clark tremble against him, his harsh panting puffing up against his throat as the boy lightly sobbed in his father's strong grasp. He didn't notice that hot tears had managed to slip by from his own eyes, unchecked. Either way, it didn't matter. He let everything flow over him, not really paying attention to the buzz going on around him. It was like he was out of sync with time and everything in it.

He was vaguely aware of tense voices somewhere in the background beside him, but he didn't pay the slightest attention to them. Nothing mattered right now; only his son's steady heartbeat under his palm and his warm breathing on his neck.

"It's okay, you're safe..." Ed kept talking, all the while trying to calm Clark, continuing to rock him in his arms.

Drawing a shaky breath, Clark suddenly raised his head, eyes wide and glassy with fear. "Dad? Kevin? Is he..." his voice was small and rough as he whispered. He tried to pull away, to turn around and look back.

"Don't," Ed grabbed Clark's neck and forced the boy's face into his shoulder in an attempt to keep him from seeing, "Don't look…" He clutched his son tighter.

His eyes slid to the dead body lying in a puddle of blood. The man's unseeing eyes were open, staring at nothing, but his cheeks were still wet with tears, the fear imprinted on his face forever.

A large figure stepped from behind Ed and a big black plastic bag covered the dead man's face. Ed raised his head and nodded mutely his gratitude to Old Ben.

Now Clark began sobbing in earnest, releasing all the pent-up energy at once.

"Shhh…Don't think of that…" Ed placed his hand around the boy's nape and gently massaged, whispering comforting words, trying to calm him down. For a second he lowered his face onto the top of Clark's head, fighting with his own emotions. He couldn't even really put a name to it. Grief, disappointment, fear, relief? Maybe all of those, maybe none… There was only one feeling he was sure was above everything right now: the enormous, raw, overwhelming pain for his son, who at only fifteen years of age was forced to go through all of this.

Ed's eyes strayed to the dead man again. He felt nothing but the infinite sadness toward this distressed, confused, frightened man, now lying dead on the floor, with a small, bloody bullet hole in his forehead; the back of his skull spread across the floor behind him. _Poor guy…It didn't have to be this way. None of this…_ The knowledge that negotiation to safety was within his grasp— but only human stupidity had caused this catastrophe and nearly caused another, even more terrible catastrophe— tore at him.

 _Too close, it had all been just too close._

The voices beside him grew louder. Ed blinked, suddenly aware of what was happening around him.

"What did you do?! Why did you do that?!" cried a young voice, full of indignant excitement from somewhere to Ed's left.

"Daniel, calm down and stand aside! Stand aside!"

"He... He was-"

"You killed him!"

"Daniel, stop!"

"He was trying to kill the hostage! I... I did what I had to do!" Now the voice of Officer Howell had lost its former imperiousness. It was tight and defensive; stubbornness, perplexity and uncertainty strangely mixed in it.

Anger started rising in Ed, slow and hot.

"It was the only solution!" Howell's voice rose to a shout. "I saved the hostage!"

 _Son of a bitch…_

Ed slowly turned his head, his mouth pressed into a tight line.

Old Ben stood between Daniel and the cop, holding his grandson's shoulders, trying to push the furious young man aside.

"You almost killed that boy! You were ready to shoot his father before his eyes!" Daniel kept shouting into the cop's face. "Look! Look what you've done!"

The rookie looked blankly at Ed. Their eyes met. The next moment, the cop's eyes shifted to something on the floor near Ed's knee and the tense, suspicious expression was back on his face. He licked his lips nervously. Ed followed his gaze.

It was the knife. Kevin's knife… Ed gripped his hands around Clark, choked as a new wave of horror clenched his insides.

 _It had all been too close… Too close._

"You ... Move away from the boy, mister."

 _Wha... What?_ Ed blinked, stunned; he just couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Leave the boy."

 _WHAT?!_

Ed lifted his head, breathing hard.

The young cop was staring at him warily, apprehensively and… his hands with the Beretta slowly began to rise.

"Leave the boy!"

And then something inside Ed snapped. The simmering anger burst out of him, shattering the remnants of his fragile, tenuous self-control that he'd managed to maintain by this point. The urge to tear apart this stupid pup responsible for his son's pain and suffer burned increasingly bright in his veins, begging for a physical outlet. His sanity began to slip away.

"Officer, no! What are you doing?! No! Put your gun down! He is his father! He is also a cop! Ed, Eddie! Hell, show him your I.D. and badge!" Ben and Daniel were crying simultaneously, "He is from the SRU! He held the situation under control until you came here with your fucking gun! You hear me? He is from the SRU!"

Ed began to rise to his feet, slowly, deceptively slowly, as a predator rises before pouncing on its prey.

The young officer looked at him in confusion. "SRU? You`re from…SRU?" His whole posture still was tense, but the gun was lowered. "May I… May I see your I.D? Sir?"

Ed stepped forward.

Ben saw something in his eyes. "Eddie, stop." He stood in his way. "No, no. You're crazy! Don't do this! Don't do this! Your son needs you, Eddie!"

Ed didn't respond with words. He simply shoved Ben to the side. He did not even look at the old man and barely heard him through the blind rage that filled his head.

"Dad?"

A hand grabbed Ed's wrist, pulling, tugging, trying to stop him and he looked down, meeting Clark's glazed eyes. The boy was standing beside him, swaying and staring at him with fear. "What ... what're you gonna do?"

Sirens wailed in the distance.

Ed shoved the disoriented kid into Ben's arms, barely aware of what he was doing. His mind snapped in two, his anger blinding him to the consequences of his actions, his common sense failing to tell him that what he was about to do was stupid, crazy and just on the edge of lunacy.

His hands formed the fists, the knuckles white, the muscles in his forearms pulled tight. His anger swallowed him whole.

He took another step forward.

Sirens approached.

"I... I saved your son. This man threatened to kill him! I saved him!" said the rookie in a halting voice. He pulled back a little, his hand with the gun again jerked up.

"Eddie NO!"

Ed lunged.

The young rookie, inexperienced and still shocked after making his first kill shot, did not stand a chance against a well-trained and infuriated veteran of the Strategic Response Unit. In a trice the gun was knocked out of his hand. A split second later he was lying flat on the floor and this scary, shaven-head man, his face white and contorted with fury was looming over him.

Ed struck fast and he struck hard. A quick, explosive punch, and his fist slammed against the cop's nose. Next punch, the jaw. Cheekbone.

The cop tried to raise his arms as if he was about to return Ed's blows, but Ed never gave him half a chance, striking blow after blow, seeing nothing but this frightened face in front of him, the roar of the blood pulsing in his ears. Somewhere in the background were the screams, someone's hands grabbed him from behind, struggling to pull him away from his quarry. Unsuccessfully. The uncontrollable savage fury on this stupid pup swallowed him whole.

He did not know how long it lasted before he became vaguely aware of the things going on around him; the yells of "Police, freeze!"; a flash of blue uniform in his peripheral vision...

And his son was screaming. Hoarse, sobbing, terrified cries.

"DAD! DAD! DADDDDYYY!"

Ed froze, with his right hand clenched, hovering over the face of the man who lay beneath him. He blinked. His gaze clarified. The young police officer was clutching his hands to his face, blood trickled between his fingers. He was moaning softly. And suddenly the reality of the situation slammed into Ed, his mind cleared and he understood what he had just done. His eyes widened in horror. _No, no, no…_ His fist unclenched, fingers rubbed, red-knuckled, hurt badly.

"Hands! Put your hands up right now!"

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot! He's a cop, too! He's from SRU!"

"Hands behind your head, fingers interlaced, now! Now!"

Slowly, Ed lowered his right hand, panting, shocked, appalled at his own lack of self-control; unable to tear his eyes away from the bloodied face in front of him. _What have I done?! What have I done?!_

"DAD! MY DAD! Please don't kill my dad! PLEASE!"

"Take the boy out of here!"

 _Clark._ Ed recoiled and tried to turn round.

"Freeze!"

Without warning, a blast of electricity erupted and raced through Ed's body as the two prongs of the stun gun lodged in him. His muscles locked together under the burning onslaught and this moment the second course of electricity tore through him.

His body arched backward, collapsed to the floor, then begun to convulse, writhing, thrashing uncontrollably, every muscle seizing up. His vision tunneled, growing dark at the edges. His jaws were locked so tight that he couldn't even scream; his lungs pleading for air, his heart thudding unevenly.

He didn't lose consciousness completely, but for some time the world around him went blurry, darkened, losing all sounds...

The violent spasms finally stopped and he curled in upon himself, panting. His body still trembled, limbs shaking.

Hands painfully gripped Ed's shoulder and hip, snapping him over onto his stomach. A knee shoved into his back, between his shoulder blades. A hand against the side of his head, pressing down; his cheekbone scraped painfully against the floor. His arms were twisted up behind him, the move on the verge of violence, ruthless. Not the sparing plastic restraints, but the cold, unrelenting metal of the police issue handcuffs dug into the skin of his wrists, tightened more than was necessary.

He felt a boot push between his ankles and force his legs apart as the hand patted sharply over the length of his body, a standard detention procedure.

Ed blinked, his eyelids heavy. It was difficult to keep his eyes open. His vision was still blurred.

There were feet all around him. Large, heavy army boots. Legs clad in blue with red stripe BDUs stepped around him. Hands grabbed his cuffed arms, pulling him up to his knees.

"SRU... My I.D..." His lips and tongue were barely moving. "…in my wallet..." Ed couldn't get his voice much above a whisper, he was not even sure that they heard him.

A hand went to the jacket pocket, pulling out his wallet. Other hands that held him upright let go and he again collapsed heavily face first onto the floor.

Then he lay motionless, collecting himself. The world slowly coalesced around him.

There were several harsh male voices speaking above him, arguing, swearing. Other voices were in background. Ed recognized Daniel's hurried speech, his tone irate, outraged. Another voice, defensive, accompanied by painful groans. But the sole voice he most wanted was not heard anywhere.

 _Clark._

"My son ... Where's my son?" Ed croaked, trying to raise his head from the floor to look around, to see Clark.

A man crouched down next to him. "Constable Edward Lane?" The question was asked gruffly, but even with his fuzzy mind Ed caught the baffled tone in it.

"Yes." He confirmed. "Where's…"

The man swore colorfully under his breath and stood up, not answering.

"Where is my son?" Ed asked louder and struggled to get up. It was a wasted effort, as his body was lacking the strength, still dazed and uncoordinated. He got no further than his knees when his legs buckled beneath him. On his second try someone else from behind grabbed him by his arms, helping, hauling him to his feet. There was none of the previous rudeness in this movement, but nobody tried to un-cuff him, either.

Ed stood up unsteadily, but managed to stay upright.

The cop about his own age was standing in front of him with a grim expression on his face, eyes cold and hard, deeply frowning. The other two were behind Ed, still holding him by his elbows.

Ed looked around wildly, desperate to see his son. He saw Daniel was being interrogated. The other officers were packing plastic evidence bags with Kevin's knife and the Beretta. A couple of people were bending over the dead body. The whole place was swarming with people in uniform, and every moment new people were coming in and out. His son was nowhere to be seen, lost in the chaos of the scene.

Ed looked at the officer in front of him. "My son…" he began again but his voice broke. He sucked in an uneven breath, his despair turned into a growing panic and he did not have any strength to fight it. He just had to know where his son was. He just needed to know that he was all right. Why didn't they tell him? "Ple…Please…"

"He's all right. He's outside. The paramedics are checking him over," the cop said, looking intently into Ed's face. The scowl was gone, replaced by something approaching compassion. "He was taken out of here before your... detention."

Ed closed his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered, equally grateful for the answer and for the fact that Clark was spared from witnessing the scene. _But he saw the all rest. He had seen his father's breakdown, his vicious attack on this young cop._ The sick wave of overwhelming guilt hit him hard. Ed dropped his head.

"The owner of the store is with him now. He said that he is your friend?" the officer continued in a low voice. "You don't mind? The boy seems comfortable with him..."

Ed raised his head, looking into the face of the man in front of him, astonished that the cop was asking for his consent. They were not obliged. Ed had assaulted a police officer, one of their own; who was performing his duty. Regardless of the reasons, Ed had put himself outside the law.

He licked his lips and staggered a bit. His legs were weak, the muscles trembling, standing was taking too much effort. "Old Ben," he murmured. "Ben Barrigan. Yes, Clark will be fine with him…"

The cop nodded. "All right…"

"I want to press charges!" shouted a sudden loud nasal voice beside them. "I want him in jail!"

Ed turned his head. Past him, the paramedics were leading Officer Howell to the exit. The rookie's face was bloody, his nose obviously broken. When the young cop passed by, he spat out a mouthful of blood at Ed's feet and made a move toward the cuffed detainee, menace in his eyes.

"Howell, back off! Your opinion is noted! Now get the hell out of here." The senior officer who was standing next to Ed immediately snapped at him, "You've done enough here..." His voice was full of barely restrained irritation and on his face was not the tiniest bit of sympathy for his battered colleague.

Howell opened his mouth, closed it again. Blinked. Then, throwing another look of hatred in the Ed's direction, he swore and headed for the exit.

" You've got yourself into one helluva mess, Constable…" said the superior officer regretfully. "For God's sake, what the hell were you thinking? You of all people should be aware of the consequences of your actions!"

Ed made no reply. There was nothing to say. He gritted his teeth, despair and shame choking him. The guilt he was feeling was indescribable. He hated himself more than he'd ever thought possible.

The officer sighed heavily and stepped closer. "Your son is alive. That's what's important. Try to think only of that right now, Constable Lane," he said, not letting his gaze move from Ed's face. There was sincere sympathy in his voice now. "And... I hope you have a good lawyer…" He reached out his hand and patted Ed on the shoulder. Then he nodded to the cops behind Ed and turned away.

A hand against Ed's back pushed him toward the exit.

He stepped outside and looked longingly around in the desperate hope to see Clark. To reassure him. To apologize. To tell him that he was so wrong, that he had failed him. Oh God, he needed so badly to ask forgiveness from his boy.

"Move..." The hand on his back slightly nudged him forward again. Ed obeyed. He could feel the adrenaline leaving his body, a hurried retreat, exhaustion taking its place.

The police cruisers and ambulances with their lights blazing were gathered around the scene. These kind of scenes were something Ed had become accustomed to, but now—handcuffed, catching the curious glances of cops and gawkers as they gaped at him— he felt like a stranger in his own element.

He was bundled into the back of one of the squad cars and they immediately cruised away, swiftly gathering speed. But at the last moment before they left the scene, Ed had noticed the small figure sitting in the back of one of the ambulances, wrapped in the arms of Old Ben. Tears formed in Ed's eyes. He was unable to catch them with his back-cuffed hands so he just dropped his head and let them flow. He didn't care. His body began to shake with retreating adrenalin, with defeat…

* * *

Half an hour later Ed sat all alone on a corner bench in a holding cell in the precinct building, awaiting arraignment before a judge.

He thoughtfully rubbed the red marks from the handcuffs on his wrists. He could never have predicted he'd be in a place like this, not on the opposite side of the bars, not ever, until today. He chuckled bitterly and took stock.

 _Face it_ , he told himself grimly, _You screwed up. No doubt about it. You did not cope with the situation that you were obliged to solve. You allowed your emotions to take over, to rule you, to cloud your judgement. You let all this become personal and… You lost your focus. You lost yourself. You nearly lost your son. The man had died today due to your wrongful actions. You could have saved his life, you should have, but you did not. You did not protect your son—you frightened him, failed him, betrayed him. You were totally falling apart, losing your composure and self-control just when your son needed you. You officially, totally fucked up, Ed Lane. Now be prepared to deal with the consequences._

His body heavy with exhaustion, Ed buried his face in his hands and closed his eyes.

(tbc)


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

 **A/N:** Many thanks to Ace Bullets for her help. All mistakes are mine.

* * *

 _I should have told Kevin that I'm a cop…_

He should have done it at the very moment that Kevin began to respond to him, when he had a connection with him and the knife had been lowered. It would hardly have made the situation any worse in that moment but could have swung the balance in their favor.

Almost surely, Kevin would have just got scared and ran away. And everything would have ended there and then. Period.

Or Kevin could have trusted Ed, accepted his offer of help — the SRU's officers had a good reputation among the townspeople, better than the regular cops — and told him about the people that had threatened him.

And then, Ed would have called Greg... And after a short time one of the SRU's teams would have handcuffed the bastards that had blackmailed Kevin... Everything would have been over. Kevin would be alive. Clark would not be forced to go through this nightmare. The young and inexperienced Officer Howell would not have fallen into this stressful, tense situation that he couldn't handle.

And Ed...

Ed would not be where he was now.

He'd been sitting immobile with his clenched fists resting on his knees, eyes staring emptily at the gray concrete wall of the detention cell. Sitting still in a cool room for a protracted period of time was not conducive to future mobility, but Ed was oblivious to any discomfort.

He'd played and replayed the morning in his mind like a movie that he could recite word for word, over and over again trying to work through what had happened, to sort it out, to understand. His thoughts and emotions were snarled up in a knot so tangled he wouldn't know where to start unraveling them. His mind labored on, self-torturing, sick with grief, recrimination. His own personal debriefing; his own personal judgement, with himself in the role of Prosecutor, Defense, and Judge.

 _So, why did you hesitate, Constable? Why did you not take this solution? What were you thinking?_

Ed closed his eyes, recalling every detail.

He had been scared; no, horrified. He could still feel this horror deep inside, and had a strong suspicion that it would remain there for a long time to come.

 _But wait. Were there really any reasons to be horrified so badly as to cause loss of control?_

Kevin had not been going to kill Clark; he was not a murderer. God, he was not even a robber. It was so obvious, Ed could see it distinctly!

 _Yes, distinctly..._

Even not being a profiler, Ed had always been good at "reading" people. Just another one of those little things you learn how to do if you want to stay alive and save other lives in his line of work. A subject's gestures, movements, posture, look, speech. See, evaluate, predict and forecast future actions. Quick and calm.

He was good, no doubt. His percentage of mistakes and failures was low. But nevertheless... mistakes and failures happened.

What if he'd missed something at the time and "read" Kevin incorrectly?

One minor wrong conclusion. And the catastrophic result.

His imagination immediately provided him an all-too-vivid probable picture of this result - Clark's face, covered with a sheet – and Ed shook his head in denial, his mouth drying out; icy tendrils of fear racing up his ribs to curl around his heart. He shut his eyes and tried to remember how to breathe. _No_ , _no, no_ … That was something he must never think of...

 _I couldn't. I could not risk! It was my son's life at stake there! Who would not have been horrified?! Who would not have had doubts?!_ Ed groaned mentally.

But then the next moment, on the heels of that attempt at self-justification came another wave of excruciating shame.

 _Thus, Constable_ , his inner Judge said coldly, _let me get this straight. You just become frightened and missed this obvious solution that any of your colleagues would have used immediately after the primary assessment of the situation._

Ed sighed heavily. He knew the shame he was feeling inside was merely a taste of the disgrace that loomed on the horizon.

His colleagues... What if it had not been him but Greg Parker there? Greg ... Certainly, Greg would have known how to deal with this, what to do, what to say. He would have found an approach to the panicked robber armed with a knife. He would have found a way to cool down that hot-headed, hyper-enthusiastic, excitable young cop. And all involved would have been alive and safe as a result.

Instead, everything Ed had said and done seemed to only make things worse.

He tried to take a deep breath to steady himself, but the grief pressed too heavily upon him.

But what if it was not only fear? Ed rubbed his aching temples. He had been in this business too long to be really scared. He was used to the permanent risk and stress and danger. He was used to making split-second decisions on which many lives depended.

All right, his conscious mind had been afraid, there is no point in denying it. But maybe it was his subconscious that had noticed some minor signs in Kevin; that something dangerous that was there, but had somehow escaped Ed's direct vision? Maybe not the fear, but his experience, his intuition, his gut feeling had stopped him from revealing that he was a cop?

For one moment, he allowed himself to be caught up in this comforting version but then he only chuckled bitterly.

 _Or maybe you're just trying to justify yourself now, Constable? So typical ... People tend to look for and find justification for their mistakes. Nobody wants to live with the burden of guilt. It won't work, Ed Lane. You may not be the best negotiator or profiler, but what about the tactics?_ a nasty voice stabbed at the back of his brain. _What excuse and justification could you give now, you damned consummate Tactical Leader?_

Ed dropped his head into his hands under a wash of self-blame and tried to swallow past the sudden knot in his throat.

How many times had he had the opportunity to disarm the robber? More than once... The moment when Kevin was stunned, bewildered, distracted - Ed had only been a leap away and the knife had been lowered. The perfect moment! Minimal risk for Clark, less than minimal!

 _So why the heck you were lingering for?!_

 _Why did you hesitate?!_

He had no answer…

 _Why the hell didn't you tell Howell that you were a cop too? You idiot, you saw that the kid was crumbling under the stress and wasn't picking up your hints and clues! What did you expect?_

He had no answer…

His mind kept running obsessively, hauntingly, examining the situation from every angle, compulsively replaying every word, expression and gesture and castigating himself for... for everything.

And here at last he got to the highest point of his disgrace.

 _Why didn't you linger and hesitate when you lost your temper and lashed out at that confused, shocked, bewildered kid?!_

Ed moaned and squeezed his eyes shut.

 _Bravo, Ed Lane! You're such a brave fellow! Keep it up! Vent your spite, your frustration, fears upon inexperienced greenhorns!_

He seized his head with his hands, for the first time regretting that he had no hair to grip.

Before his mind's eye again rose that rookie with that unforgiving expression on his face, stubbornly targeting his Beretta in Clark's direction, deaf to Ed's persuasions and to the desperate pleas of Ben and Daniel. The sound of the gunshot... The two bodies, lying motionless in a pool of blood.

He stilled at the terrible reminder, one that he would rank near the top of his list of "days I'd like to expunge from my memory" and a slow burn of weary anger flared inside him. _Stupid, stupid kid_ … But he instantly suppressed the surge and forced himself back under control.

No. Even if the rookie had made the mistake of using excessive force; even if he had not been sufficiently well-trained to go out onto the streets; even if he had been a simply stupid, incompetent idiot... none of this would ever be reason enough to justify Ed's sudden, vicious attack against him.

Ed stared at his right hand, at the bruised knuckles. He kept playing the moment over and over in his head and it still sent a chill up and down his spine. Never in his most craziest thoughts would he ever have believed that he would be able to commit such a cowardly and heinous act.

It occurred to him, very belatedly, that his career was probably over now.

The threat of suspension or being reprimanded did not bother him. He hardly even dared hope that the outcome would only be confined to this, knowing only too well what being charged with assault in the first degree meant. Inwardly, he was ready for the inevitable dismissal, being put on trial and further imprisonment.

But nothing mattered except his son's well-being right now, and even the unwelcome thought of his entire future now hanging in the balance paled into significance.

He thought about what his boy would be forced to go through after this. Nightmares. Perhaps, growing up without a father, condemned. Baiting and bullying at school. PTSD?

 _O God. What have I done?_

Could he even dare to look Clark in the face now?

 _He will hate you, be afraid of you, be ashamed of you, and he would be right… You'd never factored in what all of it would do to your boy. You're a selfish bastard, Ed Lane._

He couldn't sit still any longer, so he got up, surprised to find every muscle heavy and aching as if he had pushed himself too hard in the weight room.

The detention cell was small — no more than five paces long — much too inadequate for his long legs. Yet, Ed began walking to and fro, lost in thought, reeling, blind to everything but his internal dialogue of misery, guilt and fear.

 _Clark. Clark. Clark. How would this nightmare affect his mental health? Physical? Was he all right? Where was he now? Did the paramedics get him to the hospital or not? Was Sophie with him now? How was he?!_

He remembered how pale and disoriented Clark had been when he had come to his senses after fainting, his eyes barely focused; how he was swaying when he tried to stand upright. With creeping horror, Ed suddenly thought about other possible causes of these symptoms besides the obvious post-traumatic shock. He thought about a possible head injury.

What if Clark had not only fainted after the cop's shot, but was unconscious? What if he had hit his head during the fall? He himself had been too shocked at that moment to check Clark's head for possible lumps and all that. And he had not been able to inform paramedics about Clark's possible loss of consciousness. Ben could have told them. But what if he had not? What if the paramedics let him go home, unchecked, having decided that it was a simple fainting? What if there was something more serious?

A tight knot of fear expanded in the pit of Ed's stomach and his heart accelerated as if gearing up for a coronary.

 _God, please, just let my son be okay…_

He'd been agonizing about losing Clark's respect and love, but it appeared that there were worse things ready to steal his son away from him.

For a moment he felt as though he was choking, the rising panic strongly squeezing his chest, the air around him suddenly thickened, growing hot and impossible to breathe. He sat down again on the bench and dropped his face in his hands, rocking slightly back and forth. He ached with the need for news about Clark, to know if he was okay.

 _If there was something wrong with Clark they would have to inform him. Wouldn't they?_

He clenched his right hand into a fist and pressed it to his mouth.

 _No, maybe not. Face it. This is a_ _charge with first-degree assault of a police officer. Any news would only be forthcoming after hours and hours of approvals and then, only if the brass and detectives on this case and the prosecutor consider it necessary to inform you..._

A helpless groan of despair rose in his throat, choking him. He jumped up and resumed pacing, feet moving with the rhythm of his thoughts.

 _Stop. Calm down. At the end of the one phone conversation that you had the right to use, Greg had promised to take care of Clark and Sophie. He would inform you if there was something serious, in spite of any protocols and limitations. Unless…_

He stopped dead in his tracks.

Unless Greg, as Ed's senior officer and direct boss, had also been temporarily suspended…

Ed slowly sat back down on the bench, drained, suddenly realizing how many people near and dear to him his offense may have adversely affected.

He automatically raised his left hand to look at his watch, but only saw the red mark on his wrist from the handcuffs. As cops had stripped him of everything during his arrest, he didn't have anything to check the time, so he couldn't tell how long he'd been sitting here. It felt like hours.

He should be beside his child now. He should be kneeling before his wife now, begging for forgiveness. He should be apologizing to his team for failing them, too.

Instead, he sat passively in a detention cell, denied access to any further news, helpless.

And there was nobody to blame but himself.

(tbc)


End file.
